Part 27 (1/2)

CALIFORNIA

[The Chinaman's a.s.sailant was allowed to walk quietly away, although the street was filled with pedestrians.--_Newspaper_.]

Why should he not have been allowed To thread with peaceful feet the crowd Which filled that Christian street?

The Decalogue he had observed, From Faith in Jesus had not swerved, And scorning pious plat.i.tudes, He saw in the Beat.i.tudes A lamp to guide his feet.

He knew that Jonah downed the whale And made no bones of it. The tale That Ananias told He swore was true. He had no doubt That Daniel laid the lions out.

In short, he had all holiness, All meekness and all lowliness, And was with saints enrolled.

'Tis true, some slight excess of zeal Sincerely to promote the weal Of this most Christian state Had moved him rudely to divide The queue that was a pagan's pride, And in addition certify The Faith by making fur to fly From pelt as well as pate?

But, Heavenly Father, thou dost know That in this town these actions go For nothing worth a name.

Nay, every editorial a.s.s, To prove they never come to pa.s.s Will d.a.m.n his soul eternally, Although in his own journal he May read the printed shame.

From b.l.o.o.d.y hands the reins of pow'r Fall slack; the high-decisive hour Strikes not for liars' ears.

Remove, O Father, the disgrace That stains our California's face, And consecrate to human good The strength of her young womanhood And all her golden years!

DE YOUNG--A PROPHECY

Running for Senator with clumsy pace, He stooped so low, to win at least a place, That Fortune, tempted by a mark so droll, Sprang in an kicked him to the winning pole.

TO EITHER

Back further than I know, in San Francisco dwelt a wealthy man.

So rich was he That none could be Wise, good and great in like degree.

'Tis true he wrought, In deed or thought, But few of all the things he ought; But men said: ”Who Would wish him to?

Great souls are born to be, not do!”

One thing, indeed, He did, we read, Which was becoming, all agreed: Grown provident, Ere life was spent He built a mighty monument.

For longer than I know, in San Francisco lived a beggar man; And when in bed They found him dead-- ”Just like the scamp!” the people said.

He died, they say, On the same day His wealthy neighbor pa.s.sed away.

What matters it When beggars quit Their beats? I answer: Not a bit.

They got a spade And pick and made A hole, and there the chap was laid.

”He asked for bread,”